Oh, Tiago
by Prosper-the-XVIII
Summary: To her, he was, is and always would be Tiago Rodriguez... A short collection of Silva/M drabbles set before and during Skyfall. I know about his fixation with her, but does she have lingering feelings too? or maybe even regrets...


**Just a few little M/Silva-centered drabbles from her POV. I understand that this pairing isn't for everyone, but I have an obsession with Silva's twisted love/hate relationship with his 'mommy' and I'm sure that she must have lingering feelings for him too. Hope you like! (oh, Skyfall spoilers)**

* * *

She looked into his dark, moist, soulful eyes, which stared into her own steely blue ones as his lips brushed hers in a way that only they could. He had his hand running through her platinum blonde hair, his own - which was of virtually the same colour - falling into her face and obscuring her vision slightly. What was it about this bloody man, his wit, charm, seduction techniques and just plain old-fashioned looks that was so appealing to her? He was a good eighteen years her junior, and she'd been married since before he had even been born – though she had come across road-kill with more personality than her husband – but there was something about the taste of his lips, the hard, definite lines of his features, the unbroken wave of his hair that made him like some kind of addictive drug – once you'd gotten a taste of what you paid for, it was all you wanted. She felt him tracing the soft lines of her collarbones and press his shirtless body against her own. As he drew his face away from her, presumably to draw breath, she sighed his name heavily. 'Oh, Tiago...'

* * *

A tear streamed down her cheek at the newest name on the MI6 memorial wall. If she could have made it her that had either been murdered or killed herself; taken his place so that it was her that had gone through the torture he had been forced into by her, she would have in a heartbeat. It was a no-brainer. But the name of her once-lover was still there, along with his date of death. Even she, one of the most powerful women in Britain, couldn't undo what had been done. It was her fault. She had left him to his death...

* * *

The minute he had been brought in by James, she had known who it was. He bore a different name; age hadn't treated him as well as it had done her, judging by the few lines scoring his face, and the spark she had seen in him had long been extinguished, but he was the same man. Her thoughts drifted to those wild nights they had shared when they first met. But it darkened from there onwards. She remembered the sleepless nights and unfathomable guilt that had followed his betrayal and supposed death. The death threats he had been sending her these past few weeks...  
She stared at him slumped in the crystal cell as she rung off his fate in a monotone, not meeting his gaze fully, the same feeling she had had all those years ago when she had given him up seizing hold of her again. He cut her off mid-sentence.  
'Say my name. Say it. My real name. I know you remember it.'  
She did all too well, but she didn't let it show as she forced out her heartless words of retaliation. If ever she had felt like 'the evil queen of numbers' it was now. She wanted with all her heart to take back the final sentence that left her lips as soon as it was out. All that she truly wanted was the feel of his arms around her once more; the hot taste of his lips. But she had said the opposite. Her tone had meant to have sounded assertive, but what came out was midway between bursting out sobbing and that used by someone reprimanding a dog that had soiled the carpet. What's done is done. 'I shall never see you again.'

* * *

She couldn't bear to look at the man who had once taken a bullet for her, when the pair of them were both young and reckless, him perhaps a good few years more so than her. The man she had betrayed. At the monster she had created. His slurred words tore at her like bullets, got underneath her skin, penetrated her flesh and burned her insides; killing her from the inside like poison. Hydrogen cyanide...  
'Look upon your work, Mother...'

* * *

Skyfall. The chapel. The end. She couldn't see, she could barely stand and all that she knew was his hand probing the bulletwound in her hip. She knew that she would never see daylight again, but when was she going to die, and how?  
'You're hurt! You're hurt! What have they done to you?' He ran his hand up the wound in her side, staring at her blood that they were both now covered in. He felt his hand shake; hers had long been doing the same, though now from blood loss more than anything else. She felt his hand move, and then felt cold metal pressed against her temple. _Do it, _she was begging him in her mind. _Just...please. God, it hurts too much. I'm ready. _But she could tell that he couldn't. He picked up her hand, forcing it around the gun. 'Free both of us,' his head was now on the other side of hers, the weakest points of both their skulls touching. 'Free both of us with the same bullet.'  
She couldn't either. She could easily have just shot herself; there was no qualms about that. But she had killed him once mentally. She didn't want to do it again. If there had been time, if the scarlet drops of life escaping from her wound weren't slipping through her bloodied fingers, she would have pulled him into a kiss, brought him back from the brink, rescued him. 'Do it! Do it!Only you can. Do it. Please...' She listened to the sweet melody of his voice egging her on. She gave in. Her hand shifted position. The firing mechanism went back. She took what she thought was going to be her last breath...

* * *

And he dropped like a stone beside her. As she stared at him writhing in dying agony on the ground, she fought her tears and remembered. To her, he was, is and always would be Tiago Rodriguez...


End file.
